


The Toy Soldiers

by Ailelie, Cinaed



Series: Enduring Legends [13]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Gen, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-09
Updated: 2011-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-27 03:57:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailelie/pseuds/Ailelie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Friday, December 9 2011</i></p><p>In which David and Shea have their own mini-Christmas, and Gwen once again gives more than she intends.</p><p>(Gen, with background Ambrose/David)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Toy Soldiers

**Author's Note:**

> A few lines quoted in this fic are from the season one episode "Lancelot."

_Friday, December 9, 2011_

Shea was bouncing in his car-seat, talking excitedly about what his classmates were doing for Christmas mixed with random, wildly improbable descriptions of the cars and people they were passing. David half-listened, his attention mostly on the road and trying not to think about this being the last weekend he’d have Shea until after the holidays.

“Dad!” Shea frowned at him. Judging by the narrowed eyes and darkening expression, he’d been trying to get David’s attention for a minute or two. 

“Sorry,” David said automatically. “I was thinking about what we could do this weekend.” He stopped at a red light, stealing the opportunity to reach out and ruffle Shea’s hair. “Got any ideas?”

“I want the Muppets!” Shea decided, and David laughed.

“The Muppets, huh? Well, let me look into that,” he said. There had to be a website that would tell him if the movie was age-appropriate. He noticed Shea’s half-hopeful, half-puzzled look. “That’s a maybe.”

“Good,” Shea said, grinning and apparently taking that maybe as a yes. He drummed his feet against his car seat, a quick, determined beat. After a moment, though, his feet stilled. “Dad, will Santa find me in France?” he asked suddenly, in a tone that suggested he’d been brooding over this for a while.

David blinked, and then smiled. “Of course he will,” he assured him. “I’m sure Santa has a whole group of elves who adjust Santa’s Christmas list for kids going away for the holidays.”

Shea let out a loud sigh of relief. “Bobby said they don’t have Santa in France. And I asked Abby, ‘cause Abby knows _everything_ , and _she_ said they don’t, they’ve got Pere Noel.”

“Well, Bobby and Abby are both a little confused,” David said gently. “Pere Noel is the French name for Santa, and he definitely goes to France. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll leave a note with my milk and cookies, tell him your address just in case.”

Shea laughed loudly at that. “Dad, you can’t write a letter to Santa,” he said, sounding scandalized. “You’re a grown-up!”

“What, grown-ups can’t write letters to Santa now? What if I really want a certain present for Christmas?” David countered, biting back a smile as he pulled into the driveway. Turning off the car, he reached over and unbuckled Shea.

“I guess you can,” Shea said slowly, still looking a little doubtful. As soon as David came around the car and opened the door, Shea darted from the car and up the driveway. “A present! You got a present!” 

It took David a second to realize Shea was pointing excitedly at a Fed-Ex box on the front steps. “Looks like I did,” he agreed, grabbing Shea’s bags. “Let me get the door open and we can take it inside and see what it is.”

“Dad, if you got a present, you can’t open it until Christmas!” Shea protested, back to being scandalized again. “It’s the _rules_!”

David made ridiculous faces at him until Shea’s dismay shifted to laughter. “I don’t remember that rule,” he said, fishing his key out of his pocket and unlocking the front door. As soon as there was a sliver of space, Shea squeezed inside, still laughing.

David set Shea’s bags inside and then picked up the package. It was medium-sized, without much weight to it. He grinned when he saw that it was addressed to Shea, and then grinned wider at the familiar name and address in the corner.

“ _I_ didn’t get a present,” he announced, closing the door behind him. Shea stared at him and he held up the present. “It’s addressed to you. Apparently Gwen thought you deserved an early Christmas present!”

To his surprise, Shea’s face crumpled a little.

“Hey,” David said gently, kneeling so that they were face-to-face. He rested one hand on Shea’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want a present,” Shea said, voice wobbling. “I want you to come to France with us.”

“I’d like that too, but it’s just not possible,” David said, his throat tightening. Not for the first time he cursed Lainie’s parents for being so stubborn. It hurt badly enough knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to see Shea on Christmas, but to see Shea upset over it as well-- He tried to keep his voice light. “But we can have a great weekend, can’t we? I’m sure Santa won’t mind if we have our own early Christmas.”

Shea sniffled. “Okay,” he said. “But I don’t have your present.”

“I know!” David said, imbuing cheerfulness into his voice. “Let’s have two mini-Christmases. Tomorrow will be _your_ mini-Christmas, and then when you get back from France, we can have _my_ mini-Christmas and you can give me your gift.”

“Three Christmases?” Shea said, frowning. It wasn’t the earlier scandalized frown, though, but a thoughtful one. “No one else gets three Christmases.”

“No one else is as special as you are,” David said. It probably wasn’t the right thing to say, giving Shea a swelled head like that, but the words slipped out before he could think about it.

Shea grinned, apparently accepting that explanation. “Let’s open the present!”

“Ah, ah,” David said, waggling a finger. “ _Tomorrow’s_ your mini-Christmas, remember?” Seeing Shea’s pout, he laughed and relented. “Okay, Gwen’s present tonight, my present tomorrow.”

“And The Muppets,” Shea added, looking slyly at him to gauge his reaction.

David laughed. “ _Maybe_ the Muppets,” he said. He got out some scissors and cut the packing tape off the box. Then he sat cross-legged on the floor and watched Shea open the box.

Inside was another slightly smaller package, this one wrapped in bright wrapping paper that lasted about five seconds against Shea’s determined tearing. Shea let out a shout of delight. “Look!” he said, holding up Gwen’s gift and not seeming to notice when a note fluttered to the carpet.

Gwen had sent a Dragon Land Playmobil set, one with a bright red dragon and at least one or two knights, judging by the cover illustration. David grinned. Shea had been going through phases lately-- four months back, it had been aliens. This month one of his friends’ mothers had let them watch _The Sword in the Stone_ and now it was all King Arthur and knights and dragons.

“Wow! Wasn’t that nice of her?” David said. He reached for the note, stopped by Shea’s demand of, “Open it!”

Shea noticed his expression and said, a little quieter, “Open it, _please_?” 

“That’s better,” David said, and opened the set. It took a moment, but soon he had one of the two knights in his hand. Shea had immediately grabbed the dragon and was currently running around the living room, growling and pretending that the dragon was breathing fire.

David turned the knight over so that it was on its back, its sword pointing upwards. It wore a cloak, which was ridiculous, he thought absently--you wouldn’t wear a cloak that long and inclined to entangle in the bushes when fighting something as dangerous as a dragon, or even just something that could fly, it was common sense, really--

“Roar!” Shea shouted, and shoved the dragon at David’s face.

David cried out in surprise, one arm coming up instinctively to shield his eyes—

 _“Brechdan An Weal!”_ another voice answered him, strident and purposeful. David lowered his arm quickly, blinking and looking around for the speaker. But there was no one there except for Shea, looking abashed.

“Sorry,” Shea said softly. He awkwardly patted David’s face. “The dragon didn’t get you, did he?”

“No, he didn’t,” David said even he shook his head, trying to clear it of the buzzing in his ears. “But let’s be a little more careful with the dragon near people’s faces, okay?”

“Okay,” Shea said, and shoved the dragon at the knight David was still gripping tightly in his hand. “Roar! I’m here to eat you!”

David shifted the knight so that it was facing the dragon, and grabbed the other knight. “Never!” he said, adopting a gruff tone. “Together, we’ll defeat you! No more eating knights and kidnapping princesses for you! Princesses have their own lives to lead, you know….”

**

**

The next morning, David bolted upright, breathing hard, uncertain of what had woken him so abruptly. There was no sound of Shea, and outside, there was only the distant sound of traffic.

He’d been dreaming of Ambrose, he remembered, but no, it hadn’t been Ambrose. The young man had worn his features, like some sort of doppelganger, but Ambrose had never looked at him with such guilt and self-reproach. David closed his eyes, trying to remember.

 _“You’re not to blame,” he’d said, wanting to get that awful look off the other boy’s face._

 _“Yes, I am,” he was answered wretchedly. “I pushed you. I made you lie.”_

 _“The choice was mine,” he’d said, his certainty bone-deep and so strong that he ached with his conviction. Then again, he thought wryly, perhaps that was also the dungeon’s damp. “My punishment is mine to bear and mine to bear alone.”_

 _“I wish there was something I could do.”_

“There is; you can stop blaming yourself.” David said, the sound of his own voice making him jump. His head ached, and his throat was sore, as though he’d been yelling in his sleep. Shea would be pounding on the door if he had been, though, so perhaps his throat ached from keeping his dreams locked up tight in his chest.

He shivered, the memory of the dungeon’s dampness clinging to him. He snorted. Memory. Dream, he meant-- he’d never been near any dungeons in his life. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to will the fogginess in his head away. It had been a weird dream; he’d have to tell Ambrose about it.

“Dad!” Shea called. “I’m hungry!”

David laughed despite himself at the plaintive note in Shea’s voice. He glanced at the clock and gaped at the bright red lights announcing it was half-past ten. No wonder Shea was hungry! “Okay, I’m coming,” he called, kicking back the covers and tugging a pair of sweatpants over his boxers. “What are you in the mood for? Mini-Christmas means your choice.” 

“Chocolate pancakes!” Shea said. 

“Pancakes it is,” David said.

Shea was already seated at the table, swinging his legs and playing with the dragon and one of the knights.

“No toys at the table,” David said. This time he didn’t relent at Shea’s pout. “No arguments. Remember the syrup incident?”

Shea looked a little guilty, and squirmed off the chair, going to put the knight and the dragon away. “Can we get a wizard?” he asked over his shoulder. “Arthur needs his Merlin.”

David stopped, a wave of dizziness washing over him. He leaned against the counter, closing his eyes and trying to gain his bearings, but the vertigo only increased.

“I've seen you in action. You could shame the great Arthur himself,” Ambrose said in his ear, and David found himself laughing, a quick, sudden burst of uncontrollable laughter.

“Dad?” Shea said uncertainly. “Dad, are you okay?”

David opened his eyes. He was clutching the pancake mix tightly enough that his knuckles were white, he realized. He forced a smile upon his face and turned towards Shea. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m just hungrier than I realized, and half-asleep. But you’re right-- Arthur does need his Merlin. Let’s go and buy you a wizard later.”

Shea beamed.

Once Shea was safely distracted by his pancakes, David took out his cell and called Ambrose.

Ambrose picked up on the third ring. “David?” he said, sounding surprised but pleased. “I thought this weekend was your time with Shea.”

“It is,” David said, something easing in his chest at the sound of Ambrose’s voice. “Listen, I’ve been having a weird morning.”

There was a pause. “A weird morning,” Ambrose echoed. “Define weird.”

David shrugged a little helplessly. “Weird dreams?” he said. “Weird moments like in the kitchen where I could’ve sworn I heard your voice--”

“Okay,” Ambrose said. David could hear him take a deep breath. “Okay,” he said again, and laughed, a strained note creeping into his voice as he continued. “When did the weirdness start happening, exactly?”

“Well, Gwen sent Shea an early Christmas present-- a Playmobil set with a dragon and two knights,” David began and stopped, because it was all starting to sound even crazier when he said it aloud.

“Gwen sent Shea a Playmobil--” Ambrose started to repeat.

“Wait, Gwen knows Shea too?” a muffled voice demanded, making David jump a little.

“Shut up, Arthur!” Ambrose snapped. “And don’t listen to other people’s private conversations. Besides, of course Gwen knows Shea-- I told you she’s the one who introduced me to David.”

Arthur mumbled something indistinct.

Ambrose apparently decided to ignore Arthur for the moment. “David,” he said, and actually sounded a little frustrated. “Well, the thing is-- oh, I have no idea. But you’re not crazy. Or if you are, I am too,” Ambrose said. He huffed out a frustrated groan. “Maybe it’s a disease with a long incubation period? No, don’t worry, I’ll figure it out. It’s just a little hard to explain over the phone. Especially when I’m not sure what’s going on myself. But at least we’ve got a commonality between us now. That’s something.”

“Is this about the nonsense with the wand?” Arthur asked. “Give it up, Ambrose. No one’s buying it.”

“Go away,” Ambrose hissed, and David could picture him flapping a hand in Arthur’s face until Arthur rolled his eyes and backed away. Ambrose cleared his throat. “Can you answer a few questions?” he said. “And then you can just-- just enjoy the weekend with Shea, and I’ll explain what’s going on when you come to visit.”

“Okay,” David said slowly. He was possibly even more confused than he had been before he’d called, but Ambrose was sounding particularly earnest, and he knew that Ambrose meant what he said. And it was nice to be so readily believed, if a bit surprising. “What was that about a wan--” he started to ask.

“Dad!” Shea called, and held up his empty plate. “More, please!”

“Sure thing!” David called, covering his cell with his hand briefly. “Look, Ambrose, I don’t know what’s going on, but…ask your questions.”

“Right,” Ambrose said, adopting a clinical tone. “Was the gift Gwen sent self-wrapped or company-wrapped?”

“Self-wrapped.”

Ambrose hummed in thought. “Anything odd about the set?”

“Nothing odd, as far as I could tell,” David said. “It looked like a regular factory-made Playmobil set.”

“And you said it had a dragon? Okay,” Ambrose said. He sounded a little excited now. “That’s helpful, thanks. See you Thursday!” He hung up without further ado, and David blinked.

After a moment, he shook his head. It was going to be an odd few days. Well, at least Ambrose hadn’t told him to go see a doctor. He turned back to Shea. “So, you really think you want some more pancakes? You’ve already had three.”

“I can eat ten!” Shea boasted. David must have looked a little disbelieving, because Shea tilted his head and said, “Okay, maybe six.”

David paused briefly on his way back into the kitchen, letting his hand rest on top of Shea’s head. He could feel the soft texture of Shea’s hair, kept short because Lainie’s mother insisted on keeping it that way, and the heat of Shea’s small body warming his hand.

For the first time that morning, his head felt clear, and his body grounded. “You know, maybe we should add a few more chocolate chips this time,” he said, and smiled as Shea clapped his hands. 

  


**Author's Note:**

> Beta-read by Ailelie, who also created the graphic.


End file.
